For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak (30 page)

Claire
opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Tom winked at me
and I sniggered: this was a side of him that Claire hadn’t seen before; his more
intelligent side. Many people took one look at Tom and the way he dressed, and
presumed he was some brainless stoner, but you needed to be able to think on
your feet if you were to survive as a street performer; to be able to read a
situation and make the right decision in an instant. In this case, Claire could
see Tom’s assessment of the advantages Tobermory offered us was spot-on, but I
suspected that Mitch’s presence made Tobermory an even more attractive
proposition for him.

***

It
took us a couple of days of pretty hard sailing to reach Tobermory. We’d taken
the outside route, round the south-west corner of Mull, rather than going up the
sound on the northern side. It meant we’d avoided areas with strong currents,
but I’d also wanted to check out the survivors on Iona that Mitch had mentioned.

As it
turned out, I shouldn’t have bothered. I’d always been welcome there before, but
this time we were met with warning shots when we’d tried to approach the ferry
dock. I didn’t see where they came from, but the message was clear. I couldn’t
blame them really; if the island was still free of the disease, the best
approach to keep it that way was to stop anyone from bringing it ashore. In this
new world, it made sense for once welcoming communities to cut themselves off
from outsiders. Strangers now posed a danger beyond belief, I’d already seen
this first-hand in the holding area: both those of us on the boats and the naval
personnel had trusted the two men they’d picked up to say whether they might be
infected or not, and when it turned out one of them had been a carrier, it had
very nearly killed us all.

We
finally pulled into Tobermory Bay on the evening of the second day, shortly
after the sun had dropped below the horizon. Mitch must have warned the
surviving residents we were coming, and that we were safe, because almost
immediately two small motorboats emerged out of the darkness and directed us to
a place where we could drop anchor. They obviously weren’t completely trusting
as this was set away from the other vessels in the anchorage, and from the main
settlement itself. Rather than coming alongside, they shouted across that they’d
leave it until the following morning before they welcomed us properly. Just
before they left, one of the motorboats came close enough to toss a large
package into our cockpit and one of them yelled: ‘A welcome present from Mitch!’
Before we could say anything, they zoomed off into the night.

Sophie
picked up the bundle, ‘I wonder what it is.’ She quickly untied it.

The
first thing that fell out was a packet of Tom’s favourite tobacco and some
cigarette papers. He instantly grabbed them, and within seconds was leaning back
on one of the seats, taking in large lungfuls of smoke with great gusto. I
looked at him and raised an eyebrow; he laughed. ‘You know I’ve never been good
with will power!’ He took another long draw. ’Remind me to tell Mitch how much I
love her for this.’

Before
I could reply, Sophie yelped with pleasure. ‘Clothes! Proper clothes!’ She held
up a top, her face beaming with delight. ‘And they’ll actually fit!’

Claire
picked up a note which had fallen onto the deck, reading it silently.

‘What
does it say?’ Daz was curious.

Tom
took it and read it aloud. ‘Claire and Sophie, as I’ve told him many times, Ben
has very little taste when it comes to clothing. I think these will suit you
better than any of his. I hope they fit. Welcome to Tobermory. Mitch. PS. Tom,
have a smoke on me. You deserve it for getting this far!’

I
could tell by the look on Claire’s face how much she appreciated Mitch’s
gesture, not just for herself, but also because of how it lifted Sophie’s
spirits. She wasn’t as keen, however, on the fact that Tom was smoking again.

Chapter
Fourteen

‘Oh my
god! It’s Balamory!’ It was early the following morning and I was studying the
surrounding land with the binoculars, so I hadn’t noticed Sophie come out on
deck.

‘I
used to watch it as a kid: it was my favourite programme.’ She seemed excited.
‘I never knew it actually existed. I thought it was just a made-up place.’

‘It
is.’ I looked towards the brightly coloured cluster of traditional stone houses
which lined the shore. At one end was the distinctive outline of the local
distillery, while at the other was an impressive stone building topped by a tall
spire. ‘But much of it was filmed here.’

I put
the binoculars down and turned to Sophie; she was dressed in denim jeans, and a
blue and white Nordic jumper: both fitted perfectly. ‘How are the clothes?’

‘They’re brilliant!’ She grinned widely. ‘No offence, Ben, but your clothes
aren’t really my kind of thing. It’s so great to have something nice to wear
again.’

I
smiled, glad to see her happy for the first time since I’d met her. I knew it
wouldn’t last, but since the world had changed, any moment of happiness, no
matter how brief, had to be fully enjoyed.

A few
minutes later, Daz came out and we had a similar conversation about Balamory to
the one I’d had with Sophie; Tom and Claire commented on it, too. It seemed that
even though it was a programme aimed at pre-schoolers, everyone was familiar
with it. Me, I’d spent a lot of time in this part of the world as a kid: summer
holidays; Easter breaks; the occasional New Year. This meant I always thought of
it as Tobermory first and Balamory second.

The
older parts of the town occupied a narrow strip of land between the sea and the
hill that loomed over it. Bales of straw had been used to build barriers on the
main street about seventy yards on either side of where the quay projected out
from the shore. Each barrier was some fifteen feet high and three bales thick,
and they’d been extended far enough into the water that there was no way round
them, even at low tide. While I couldn’t quite see for myself, I presumed the
alleys and lanes leading between the buildings had been blocked in a similar
manner.

Islanders who had the disease gathered on the outside of the makeshift
barricades, aware there were uninfected nearby. I wondered about the infected,
about how much of their humanity they retained. I’d not really had time to study
them before and now that I did, they intrigued me. Humans, real, uninfected
humans, could have climbed over these barriers, yet the infected seemed unable
to work out how to do this, or that they could swim around the ends where they
reached into the sea: it seemed that while the infected had desires, they
couldn’t think for themselves; they couldn’t reason or work things out. Maybe
this gave us an advantage, maybe it didn’t; ether way I thought it was something
worth knowing,

As I
was eating breakfast in the cockpit, an off-white open motorboat drew up nearby,
but not alongside as would usually have been the case. Two men were on board,
one of whom I recognised as Mitch’s cousin, Hamish. I didn’t know him well, but
he worked on one of the local fishing boats and often called me on the radio if
he saw anything which he thought might be of interest to the tourists who came
on my whale-watching trips.

Hamish
called out. ‘Hey, Ben, good to see you made it out in one piece.’

‘Good
to see you guys made it, too. How’s the town doing?’

‘We’ve
lost a lot of people, but at least some of us are still here.’ I could tell from
his tone that he was struggling  to see this as something positive. ‘From what I
hear that’s better than most places.’

I put
my plate down. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

The
two men glanced at each other and shifted nervously from one foot to the other
and back again.

‘Ben,’
Hamish looked everywhere except at my face, ‘before you can come ashore, we need
to ask something.’ He was staring down at his boots now. ‘Are you all ...? Have
you had any ...?’ He hesitated as he tried to think of how to ask the question
he needed the answer to. Eventually, he just blurted it out. ‘Is there any
chance that any of you are infected?’

Before, I’d always been greeted with warm and open arms whenever I’d arrived in
Tobermory, and it felt strange to be treated this way now. I guess it was a
measure of how much the world had changed in such a short space of time. People
arriving from elsewhere, even ones you already knew, meant the possibility of
the infection being brought into areas which were still disease-free; and this
was something those already there wanted to avoid at all costs. Being wary of
outsiders was no longer rude; instead, it was a vital survival strategy. As we’d
already found at Iona, once open communities had now closed themselves off. I
suspected the only reason they were even considering letting us into Tobermory
was a mix of Mitch putting in a good word, and the fact that I wasn’t a complete
stranger to at least some of those who’d survived this far.

I did
my best to reassure them. ‘We’re all fine. Not even a chance. We haven’t been
anywhere we could’ve picked up the disease in days, so if any of us had it, we’d
know by now.’

The
sense of relief in the other boat was clear. Hamish shifted the engine into gear
and finally pulled up alongside. The other man held it in place and looked
across. ‘So where’d you come in from?’

They
both stared, open-mouthed as I gave him a quick summary. Finally, Hamish spoke.
‘Sounds like you’ve been pretty lucky.’

‘I
guess so.’ I glanced over to the shore, and the barricades which had been
erected to protect the survivors. ‘What happened around here? How’ve you guys
managed to hold out so well?’

Hamish
snorted. ‘Fifty of us left? I’d hardly say we’re doing well.’

‘You’re doing way better than anywhere else we’ve been.’

 ‘Yeah, I suppose.’ A pained expression crossed his face. ‘I guess these days
everything’s relative. You want to come ashore; have a look around?’

‘Definitely.’ We’d been cooped up in the boat for almost two weeks, and I longed
to be able to stretch my legs. ‘Have you got room for a few more?’

Hamish
nodded.

I
yelled down the companionway and Daz, Sophie and Tom scrambled into the cockpit,
all as eager as I was to get off the boat, even if it was only for a short
while; Claire appeared a few seconds later, with somewhat less enthusiasm, and I
guessed she’d rather stay on the boat and catch up on her sleep now we’d finally
found somewhere safe. Yet, she also wanted keep a watchful eye on her daughter,
so she joined the rest of us when we climbed into Hamish’s boat.

As we
motored towards the shore, Hamish filled me in on what had happened in Tobermory
since the outbreak began.

‘We’d
been hearing the news out of America for a couple of weeks, but we didn’t really
pay much attention to it: it was all so far away; none of us could see how it
could possibly get anywhere near us. Then we heard about the outbreak in
Glasgow. That was when we started to worry, but still we felt it was a long way
off.’ As he spoke, he manoeuvred the motorboat round an anchored fishing boat.

‘Mitch
arrived the following morning and told us first-hand what she’d seen. The
morning after that, we started hearing about people turning up at the ferry
terminal over on the east side of the island. Most were locals who’d moved away,
but some were strangers, who thought Mull might offer a safe haven from all that
was happening on the mainland. I guess it was the same with other islands. We
worried about them bringing the disease with them, but we didn’t feel we could
turn them away.’ He turned the boat sharply and shifted the engine into neutral
as we bumped against the end of the stone quay. The other man jumped ashore, a
rope held in his hand which he tied to a metal ring set into the stone.

Hamish
turned to me. ‘That’s not the type of people we are around here; it’s not in our
nature: maybe it should’ve been, though, because soon we heard about the first
infection on the island, over on the east coast, just up the road from where the
ferries come in. Mitch flew down to check it out and what she told us wasn’t
good: it seemed the disease was spreading fast.’

One by
one we climbed onto the quay as Hamish continued. ‘We knew it was only a matter
of time before it got here and we felt we needed to do something, so we set to
work trying to make a secure area where we could all hole up when the disease
finally reached us. We knew we couldn’t protect the whole town so we worked out
which parts we could secure and which we couldn’t. When we looked around, we
found the only area we could hope to do anything with was the middle of Main
Street.’

Before
Hamish could continue the other guy jumped in. ‘It was Hamish, here, who came up
with the idea of using straw bales to build the defences. That’s what saved us;
it’s what’s been keeping us safe ever since.’

Hamish’s face turned as red as his hair, embarrassed at being given so much
credit. ‘I used them to build my house; got the plans off the Internet. It works
better than you’d think, and there was no reason I could see why it wouldn’t
work just as well for building walls to keep out the infected; you just need to
know how to secure them all together properly. The bales won’t last forever, but
they should hold back the infected until we can get something more permanent in
place. We’re thinking shipping containers, if we can find them and work out how
get them into place.’